The Day The Magic Died
by enchanted.teapot
Summary: When the Muggle world turns against them, Witches and Wizards must chose to either hide or run. As rebellion erupts and her family is left in danger, Demelza Robins finds herself in unchartered and terrifying waters. Eventual Demelza/Draco
1. Prologue

**A/N:** So I've had the first few chapters to this series penned out for a wee while and I just got the urge to try and see them through today so here we are! The original main character was going to be an OC but I had a sudden change of heart and so the slightly random choice of Demelza Robins will be taking the lead instead! **The background history for the series is in canon up until roughly the end of OoTP. **There will be a pairing of Demelza/Draco eventually but it may take a while and won't be the most important plot-line...or so I'm thinking! There is quite a bit of background, especially in these first few chapters, so please bear with me till we at least make it to the juicy action scenes! Usual disclaimers apply, yada yada.

Hope you enjoy it and just so you know- reviews make my day! xxx

(**N.B.** For readers who think they recognise these first few chapters, they were originally posted on my old quizilla account but then cruelly left to gather dust!)

**

* * *

****The Day The Magic Died**

**Prologue**

She could remember the day well. Her entire family had been sat around the glowing embers of the living room fire, watching the black and white screen of their muggle tv-set with growing worry. The Minister of Magic had been forced to set up a secret network channel on muggle radio stations as by then all wizarding forms of communication had long since been lost to history. No-one spoke, no-one even made the slightest sound. Only the quiet fuzzing of the empty screen made any noise as the Robins family sat in the empty darkness of their once cosy home, eyes glued to the television as if they were trying to make something appear out of the grainy lines that danced in front of them.

Nobody dared let their minds ease back into the memories of days gone by, happier times when magic families like their own could live their lives without constant fear and anxiety, wondering how long they had left together or when that final knock on the door would come.

All of this because of a war. But not the war you might have expected.  
The wizarding world had been preparing itself for battle, waiting in anticipation for a repeat of the dark and difficult times they had already suffered at Lord Voldemorts hand but suddenly they had found themselves faced with an even larger threat, one that had shocked the wizarding community and broken friendships, families and two worlds completely apart.

It had started in Demelza Robins' last year of Hogwarts. Rufus Scrimgeour, then the Minister of magic had been forced to pay his traditional visit to the new British Prime-minister but his night had not gone as planned. As the green flames had erupted in Number 10 Downing Street, the startled Prime-Minister had acted defensively, quite un-accustomed to strange visitors arriving through his fireplace in the dead of night. A single gun-shot had been fired and so began the most destructive fight in the history of magic.

The wizarding public's response to the slaughter of their Minister had been unprecedented and a large scale retaliation was planned. The muggle Prime-Minister barely escaped several assasination attempts before his decision to reveal to the rest of his society that magic was no longer just a fairytale, dreamt up by youngsters who charged about the playground with capes tied around their necks- but a real and terrifying danger that threatened every single innocent British life and should be eradicated from their shores.

And so began the new age of the witch hunts.

No-one had expected the scale of the attacks that the non-magic folk would launch upon the hidden wizarding communities- in years to come historians would describe it as a frenzied panic, a fear of the unknown leading to unimaginable horrors. Families were plucked from their beds in the early hours of the morning, black bags forced over their heads as they were thrown into trucks and driven away into the darkness. Homes raided, shootings on sight...no precaution was too far in Muggle eyes.

But the wizarding world had not simply lay down and relinquished its wands. There had been retaliations- small and large up and down the country as the past enemies joined forces. Ministry Officials fighting alongside Death-Eaters as they battled to keep their culture alive.  
But it was no use. Even with all the charms and hexes in the world it always came down to one thing: Numbers. There were simply not enough Witches or Wizards to stand up to the masses of the British population.

The Ministry and other influential figures, Albus Dumbledore included, had reached out, _pleaded_ for help from other wizarding nations but no aid had come, each simply too afraid to step out from under the radar and face the possible backlash from their own country's leaders. The British wizarding community had been abandoned to its own torturous fate. It had seemed as if the screaming would never stop.

On that cold winter night, wizarding families across the country were waiting anxiously for word from the new Minister, silently watching the flickering screens as they wondered what was to happen to all that was left of their world. Demelza flinched nervously as the clock in the corner struck one, the black and white static disappearing in the same instant and momentarily plunging the room in pure darkness before the screen filled with a bright white light. The Robins family sat on the cold wooden floor, the image of Kingsley Shacklebolt; the latest Minister, reflected in their eyes as he appeared on the screen.

"Dear comrades, colleagues and friends..." The tiny image stared impassively back at them. It was clear from his tone that there was to be no good news tonight.  
"It is with much regret and sadness that I come to you this evening with final news."

So it was true. She'd heard that the battle was drawing to a close but hadn't dared to believe it.

"I'm afraid our future looks grim," the Minister continued. "It is no longer safe to walk the streets of days gone by or practice our craft without terror or fear plaguing our every move. We have fought bravely and valiantly and lost many good lives to the cause but now it seems it is time to accept our fates," he looked out from the screen with sadness in his eyes. "Tonight, we have accepted our defeat. There is no longer a place for magic in this world."

Demelza glanced around the room, the pale, drawn faces of her tired family watching the Minister's speech with little emotion. They'd given up the fight already; defeat was no news to them.

"I must advise you all to refrain from forming any vigilante or rebellion groups. Although I'm sure we all wish there was some way that our circumstances could be different, further violence is certainly no achievement or progress."

She thought of the Death-Eaters. Would they listen to Shacklebolt?  
They may be cruel but they weren't stupid. They too had lost many in the troubles and so would accept their fate, just like everybody else had to.

"Earlier this evening, The Ministry was officially disbanded along with our schools and stores. The patients of St Mungo's Hospital will be moved to the last safe location until their recovery. The portals to Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade are now sealed and should not be re-opened under any circumstances."

Demelza noticed dimly that her mother was crying.

Shacklebolt looked out from the screen across the room, five pairs of hollow eyes staring back. "We have lost our last stand. Though I may never see any of you again in my lifetime, I wish you good luck. Let us hope there shall be better times ahead."

* * *

Those better times had been very slow in coming. Over time, Wizarding families had either died out or gone into hiding- some lucky enough to get out of the country, others disguising themselves in the muggle world- making a tedious living whilst constantly watching over their shoulder. All it took was one slip-up for someone to point the finger and that was it. If you were accused of using magic there was no way out.

Four years on and the Muggle world had almost returned to normal. There were still sore wounds of course- some that would never heal, but they were reassured by their over-whelming victory and the new rules that had been enforced to try and return the country back to some normality.

Everyone carried an ID card, camera's screened the streets all day and night, armed guards patrolled the busier cities and curfews had been strictly enforced- no-one outdoors past ten thirty P.M. All this to make the Muggle's feel safe and to try and catch any of the remaining Witches or Wizards who had quietly slipped through the net.

Now at twenty two years of age, Demelza, or as she now called herself, _Demie_ Robins had a rare take on the world. She didn't blame the Muggle's for the downfall of her childhood way of life. It was their Prime-Minister that she despised with every bone in her body and fibre of her being.  
Still in power but much more aged, William Thackery had used the panic caused by the troubles to his advantage, demonising magic and creating himself a dictatorship in the making.

True, the streets were cleaner and quieter, in fact people -Muggles and Wizards alike- barely put a foot wrong and yet there was something so stifling about it. The atmosphere hung like a corpse above the country, dead and heavy.  
It was as if everyone had forgotten how to have fun.

"Take a few more steps backwards for me and just tilt your head to the right a little," Demie called, listening to the familiar whir of the camera film as she took shot after shot.  
"Lovely. Turn to the left...perfect and hold it." She clicked the lens shut a few more times before smiling and straightening up.  
"I think we've got enough for today, I'll get those developed and send them to the contractor by Monday."  
The model in front of her smiled and tip-toed off to get changed.

The Robins family had been one of the few that had decided to remain in Britain, getting work and changing address to hide their secrets. Demie had taken the easy route and turned her gift for taking a good picture into a profession as a freelance photographer.

Releasing the film from her camera, she slipped it into a canister to keep it from the sunlight before pulling her light brown locks loose from her hair band and starting to pack away the rest of her equipment. Today she'd been taking a few extra frames for a new designer perfume ad-campaign.  
She'd been given a free sample; it smelt like a mixture of old socks and something she could only describe as slightly deceased but she knew with a good photograph, the company could sell thousands and so she did as she was told and got paid for it.

She slipped the canister carefully into her bag and pulled on her coat, exhaling slowly and grimly eyeing up the current downpour through the floor-to-ceiling window. It was times like these she truly missed apparition.

All in all Demelza Robins had done quite nicely for herself with an airy, fancy studio in Leicester Square and a small but expensive apartment just across the street. Her family still lived in the area, deep within the leafy suburbs of the city though neither she nor her two siblings had ever married.  
Adam, her older brother, had flitted between girls over the years, finding a new one as quickly as he did jobs. He seemed unable to settle properly into a wholly Muggle existence, never satisfied with what he called: "The life of a truly boring git."

However it was Nicola, her younger sister, who Demie truly felt sorry for. Just now turning sixteen, she'd only been attending Hogwarts for a year when the school was forced to close and so she'd found herself left tantalizingly on the brink of two entirely different worlds- never knowing much about the wizarding way of life but itching to experiment with her restrained and un-exercised magic.

Demie, for her part, had quietly let herself submerge into a very lonely Muggle world. She had met and dated a few men in the past but, to her mother's frustration, had never found anything serious. To Demie there was something so utterly and heart-wrenchingly isolating about letting yourself fall in love with someone who could never know the real you. And when the real you was a Witch that was really the only option you had.

It was a Friday and Demie had promised her parents she'd head home for a family dinner and so she was leaving work early to get a taxi before the traffic set in.

"Ooh Demie!" She had almost made it to the door. "Demie! There's a strange man on the phone for you!" Claire, her secretary for the past two years hissed from behind her reception desk, her curly auburn hair messily pulled back from her rosy cheeks.

Demie grimaced, her fingers itching around the door handle. "Is it Gavin?"

Claire turned back to the phone. "Is this Gavin?" She listened attentively. "He says yes."

"Tell him I've already left."

"She says to tell you that she's already left."

Demie groaned inwardly. She had known from the day she had hired her that Claire wasn't the brightest crayon in the box but she was one of the sweetest-tempered people Demie had ever met. Not to mention she made the best cup of tea this side of West Mayfair.

Gavin on the other hand, was a total cretin and she doubted he'd even ever set foot inside a kitchen, let alone make someone else tea. That, by his own declaration, was a woman's place and from the most recent phone calls it seemed he was trying to move Demie into a kitchen of his very own. Yes, she had foolishly dated him for about a month now, but she knew for a fact that she would rather take her chances lunging wildly at the Prime-Minister, wand raised high, than spend any lengthier-than-necessary amount of time with dear old Gavin Lamarck. He was as slimy as a Muggle could come and though she'd been dodging his calls for over two weeks, it seemed he simply wasn't getting the hint.

She quickly hurried out the front door before Claire had a chance to hand over the phone and sucked in a sharp breath as a brisk wind tossed up her hair. Outside, the air was cool and crisp, the Autumn months bringing a sharp chill with them this year. Demie tightened her scarf and headed for the main road, checking her watch as she went.

Four thirty. Plenty of time.

She turned the corner. A guard was stood on patrol, watching the street with a steely gaze, cradling some hideous looking weapon in his hands. Just the sight of him would be enough to send any trouble-makers packing but Demie simply stared hard at the pavement as she passed him. She always felt so uneasy and so suspicious even though she'd been living the 'Muggle dream' quite uneventfully for some time now.  
She finally reached the end of the road and peered through the growing traffic for a taxi, her amber coloured eyes searching both sides of the street unsuccessfully.

"Come on..." she muttered quietly.

"Started loitering around street corners again have you Dems? What _will_ your mother say?"  
She turned in surprise, a huge grin erupting across her face as Fred Weasley engulfed her in a warm hug.

"I went to your studio but Claire told me you'd just left. Oh and she said to tell you that Gavin is very angry."

Demie laughed, gazing up into his friendly smile and relaxing instantly. If there was anyone's company that truly made her feel happy it was his. Well, his or George's.  
She'd first met the twins at school of course, she'd been in the same year and good friends with their sister Ginny, but she'd never really got to know them well until she'd helped out with their advertising campaign after she'd left school.

The twins had adapted well to the Muggle life, still running a joke shop but ironically branching out into magic tricks as well. If the authorities ever found out that there was more to their products than simple 'trickery of the eye' then there'd be hell to pay, especially seeing as how their products were the fastest growing brand name in the toy industry. There wasn't a single child in Britain who didn't own a 'Wacky-Weasleys Inc.' product.  
There weren't many other magic folk still hiding out in London and so Demie was more than happy to see these two whenever she got the chance. Sometimes it was just nice to know there were others still clinging on.

"Where are you headed?" Fred asked, linking an arm though hers and peering down at her, still with his characteristic grin that not even the decimation of wizarding kind had managed to get rid of.

"Off to see the family." Demie smiled up at him, happily wriggling in against his side as if to hide from the cold. "Traffic's a nightmare though. What about you?"

He thought for a moment. "I was going to whisk you off for an after-work beer but on second thoughts-"  
He grabbed her hand suddenly, pulling her round the side of the nearest building and down through a back alley.

"Ow, Fred!" Demie cried out in surprise.

"Well I can't have the lovely Miss Demelza clambering into some stranger's taxi-cab now can I? Besides what would Mrs Robins say if she knew I hadn't done the gentlemanly thing and offered to take her daughter home?"

"You're going to take me home?" she scoffed. "Don't you think it'll be a little embarrassing being fireman's-lifted over five miles out of town?"

Fred gave her a smug 'just-you-wait' glance and pulled her round another corner as the passage opened up into a small parking lot.  
"We modified Dad's old car," he muttered proudly, standing back and nodding down at the knackered, old, blue Ford Anglia. "It can't fly anymore but it can exceed the speed limit if George is driving."

Demie shook her head, nudging him in the arm. "You'd better keep your voice down," she gave him a warning smile, "you almost deserve to be caught you do."

He laughed. Fred had always liked to live life a little on the reckless side. It was his way of saying 'you haven't beaten us just yet.' Well that and the two fingered salute he gave every time he walked past a surveillance camera.

"Come on then, hop in. George wants it back for eight and I plan on being repaid for my kindness by a slice of your Mum's marble cake so shift yourself."

She scampered over to the passenger door and slid in. "George going anywhere nice then?"

"Ah well..." he muttered quietly, starting the engine and reversing out onto the road, "He got a letter from Angelina Johnson the other day."

Demie's eyes widened. "Angelina Johnson?" she whispered in surprise.

Fred nodded solemnly. "Turns out she's come back to England, on a fake passport of course."  
The Johnson family had been forced to run for France half way through the troubles. Angelina's older brother had been one of the first to attempt to assassinate William Thackery and had been ruthlessly killed for his efforts.

"Anyway..." Fred continued, his eyes momentarily caught on a patrol car in his rear view mirror. "She's staying up North with the Grangers until she finds her own place and naturally, George wants to see her." Demie nodded quietly. It had been a sad time for George in many ways- not just because of all the pain and suffering but he and Angelina had been engaged and she'd never even had chance to say goodbye before she'd had to run.

"How's Adam then?" Fred smiled again. "Still pratting around?"

She laughed. "Isn't he always? The last I heard he'd decided to go to Law School."

"Moron." Fred shook his head with a chuckle.

"Oi, he is still my brother you know! Even if he is bloody daft."

Fred grinned. "What about little Nicky?"

Demie rolled her eyes. "Dad caught her smoking the other week and grounded her. So naturally she shimmied down the drain pipe and ran off into the night."

"Ha! Resourceful as ever I see. That girl will go far."

"I reckon you encourage her," she muttered disapprovingly.

Fred looked stunned. "Moi? Never! How could you accuse me of such a thing?"

She laughed, quieting suddenly as another patrol car pulled up next to them at a red light. "What's with all the police?" she muttered nervously.

Fred shrugged but kept his head down and eyes fixed warily on the road. In truth it always put them both on edge. "Maybe there was a sighting or something." Demie nodded, fidgeting with her hands nervously and focusing straight ahead out of the front window.

"How's Ginny coping?" she asked finally.

"She had another episode last Thursday." Fred muttered glumly, indicating right. "Mum says she's getting worse."  
One night, back in the thick of the troubles, Harry Potter had simply disappeared. He'd apparently boarded the Knight Bus one evening- the same evening that the Knight Bus was finally apprehended and destroyed. There'd been rumours that the Muggle's had used magical inside help. Afterall, how else would they ever have caught it?  
Needless to say, it drove poor Ginny to despair and since then she'd been an emotional train-wreck just waiting to happen. The once strong, brave young woman had given up hope on the Wizarding world- but not on Harry. She waited by the window of her bedroom all day, waiting for him to owl her or simply arrive at her front door.  
No-one had the heart to tell her that he was probably never coming back.

Fred pulled into the driveway at Three Crescent Terrace, the Robins family home, and got out, following her indoors where they were greeted by the smell of a roast dinner cooking in the kitchen.

"Hi Dad," she smiled, taking off her coat and hugging his neck as she sat down beside him at the kitchen table. "Fred's come for cake."  
She grinned realising he'd already helped himself.

Mr Robins looked up from his newspaper and frowned. "I've told you lot a million times. It's not safe to travel round together. I mean it's bad enough for one witch to be strolling round London but a whole group of you, well you might as well start playing quidditch in Hyde Park!"

She rolled her eyes. "He only drove me home Dad."

"Yes dear..." Demie's Mother bustled into the kitchen. "You do rather fuss over the poor girl."

"Well excuse me for wanting to protect my family!" He slapped his paper down on the table in exasperation. "One kid's prancing around the town with a shoot-me sign stuck to her for'head and the other's jumping out of windows and running around in the dead of night."  
They all stifled their laughter. "Merlin knows what would have happened to her if one of those Curfew Officers had caught her."

"Dad on a rant again?" Adam appeared in the doorway, his loose fitted jeans practically falling down and a leather jacket slung over one shoulder. For some reason, Demelza's older brother always had a cheeky smile and a wicked glint in his eye as if he'd discovered the true meaning of life and was keeping it a secret and boy, did he know how to wind up his Father.

"And another thing!" Mr Robins pulled open his newspaper angrily revealing a full page picture of the latest modelling sensation- Gabrielle Delacour, as she posed at the end of a catwalk, a huge headline above reading:

**Delacour Wows Again At Opening Night Of London's Fashion Festival. **

"I mean talk about being reckless!"

Adam grinned. "Dad, sometimes the best way to avoid suspicion is to put yourself in the lime-light."

"Bollocks."

"Language Thomas." His wife muttered, faffing with something on the stove whilst having to shuffle around Fred in the cramped little kitchen.

"No it's true." Adam leaned back in his chair, resting his legs on the table. "It's like a bluff, we learnt about those today in my professional poker class."

"Professional poker?" Demie almost choked on her coffee. "What happened to Law School?"

He shrugged. "Full of arses."

"Well really." Mrs Robins tuttered to her son, swatting his feet off the table as she served dinner. "Are you staying Fred?"

Fred gulped down the last morsel of cake. "No thanks Mrs R, gotta get the car back for George. He's going to see Angelina Johnson tonight."

"Angelina?" Adam sat upright. "But she--"

"Well now she's back." Demie cut in, shooting her brother a look. He and George had always fought over her back at Hogwarts and she knew exactly what he would be thinking.

"Anyway," Fred added. "Thanks for the cake. I'll see you later Dems."  
She smiled and waved as he ruffled her hair before disappearing from view, the front door clicking shut a few moments later.

"I can't imagine it's the safest move for the Johnsons to be back so soon," her Father muttered, suddenly sounding genuinely anxious.

Demie thought for a moment and pursed her lips with a frown. "I think it might just be Angelina. Apparently she's staying with the Grangers."  
She hadn't given it much thought but now that she did, it was a little odd that Angelina had returned. Why now? Did she really think four years was long enough for people to forget and move on? Demie shrugged it off and smiled, helping herself to potatoes and settling in for another, very muggle, evening in.


	2. I Rebellion

**Chapter I**

**  
Rebellion**

The weekend had passed too quickly and now it was just another Monday which meant back to work. Demie stepped out into the frosty morning, a cardboard coffee cup clenched tightly in her palms as she tried to bury herself in the neck of her coat. It seemed winter was attempting to come early. She passed the rush hour crowds, battling her way through the rat race as Muggle's marched solemnly to their offices in the heart of the city. No-one made any attempt to socialise- not a friendly smile or even a courteous hello as they followed in ant trails under the watchful eyes of the surveillance cameras whirring overhead.

She finally reached her studio, relaxing into its warmer, friendlier atmosphere as she slung her coat over Claire's desk and exchanged the brief morning pleasantries with her secretary before taking the stairs up into her private dark room. She set down her coffee cup and carefully set to work on the shots from Friday's session that she'd left hanging over the weekend. Instantly she knew which one she would send to her contractors; the only one in which the young model had managed to resist from wrinkling her nose at the disgusting perfume she was cavorting around the room with.

Demie looked down at the picture and sighed. Photographs were truly beautiful and could capture such emotion, so much feeling all in one simple shot, but these would never be a patch on her old magic photos. In these you could never hear the laughter or watch the graceful movements like in the ones she'd kept in her Wizarding albums- the ones she'd had to burn at the start of the troubles.

She slipped the photo delicately into a protective sleeve, turning back to the other, undeveloped ones.

"Demelza!" The door to the tiny room flew open, banishing the dull red light in a blast of brightness.  
She spun around in surprise, Gavin was stood in the doorway, the light filtering through around his silhouette and slowly dissolving all of her precious pictures.  
"I've been calling you all morning," he muttered angrily. "You've been completely ignoring me all weekend."

She resisted the urge to claw away at his haughty little face and instead turned back to face her photographs with a sigh of despair. All her hard work had just been ruined by one idiotic prat and his arrogant impatience.

"Well I have been rather busy," she muttered curtly, pushing past him and clenching her fingers into fists. Luckily there hadn't been too many important photographs left in the dark room but still- it was the principal of the thing.

"Gavin?" Demie forced on a smile, pointing up at a bright red beam coming from a small light at the top of the door. "Do you remember that little chat we had a while ago about not disturbing me at work and how that red light means do not enter under any circumstance?"

He folded his arms indignantly. "Don't patronise me Demelza Robins. I want to know what the hell you think you're playing at by not returning any of my calls!"

Ooh if only she still had her wand, then she could wipe that self-righteous little sneer right off his face. She often thought it was a pity the troubles has started before she'd had a chance to learn wandless magic, though she feared in situations like this, the opportunity would be too tempting to not blow her cover.

"Like I said, I was busy. Now if you don't mind Gavin I really need to get on with some work so--"

"Oh come on." Gavin scoffed, following her through into the airy studio, walking straight across the white sheet laid out in front of the camera and leaving a trail of dark and muddy footprints right across her backdrop. "You can hardly call all this artsy-fartsy stuff work!"  
He straightened his tie and checked his teeth in the reflection from the window .

Demie rolled her eyes. She'd had this talk a million times: _"Freelance photography?! Bah! Why not just accept my fourth proposal and join me in my big old family manor where you can order around maids and raise our delightfully snot-faced children all day long."_

Well, maybe not quite in those exact words.

He sauntered over to her, sliding a snaky arm around her waist and squeezing her back into his body. Demie shuddered involuntarily.  
"Your place is with me at home, not cooped up in here working all hours of the day and tiring that pretty little face of yours. I mean you are starting to show the strain you know, after all, no-one ever gets any younger."

She idly wondered how these things must sound in his head. Maybe the compliments were simply lost in translation?

"As much as I appreciate the flattery Gavin, I really need to you to leave." She wriggled free of his hold and walked over to the door, holding it open for him and forcing another tedious smile.

He cocked an eyebrow in annoyance. "Fine, whatever you say. I'll pick you up around eight. My Mother wants us to have dinner with her little society."  
That was just his way- not a would shemind or like to go but a simple instruction. He'd already decided for her and that was that.

Demie thought about protesting, she had in fact already made plans to visit Ginny that evening and see how she was but she knew it was pointless. The quicker she agreed, the quicker she could get him to leave.  
She nodded and he smiled smarmily, strolling over and planting a quick kiss on her forehead before winking and strutting out of the building, completely ignoring Claire as she smiled and waved him off. Demie leant against the doorframe for a moment and grimaced- he was simply unbelievable. If there was ever a deep regret in her life it was that she'd let him walk right into it.

With a scowl she hoisted the mucky sheet off the floor and waddled over to the reception desk beneath the weight.  
"Send that down to the dry cleaners for me would you Claire? Oh and could you ring Mrs Weasley and tell her I won't be able to visit tonight after all."

Her secretary smiled, her double chins wobbling slightly as she set to work. "What shall I tell her?" she asked, fingers poised over the dialling pad.

"That I'm really sorry and if it's any consolation, I'll be spending my evening trying to drown myself in the punch bowl," she sighed in despair and shot her a weak smile as she disappeared back into the studio to set up for the next shoot.  
At around half past three, Demie's latest client arrived, bustling into her workroom uninvited with a small entourage fussing around her like a tiny swarm of bees.

"Miss Robins? I'm Monica Dabrisse." She outstretched a perfectly manicured hand. "I presume you're ready for me?"

Demie cocked an eyebrow. "Of course." If there was one thing she hated- besides Gavin, the Prime-Minister and constantly living a nerve-wracking life of lies- it was models. Annoyingly, Demie was forced to encounter this problem quite a lot in her chosen profession but she always put on a smile and gritted her teeth.

"I'm already dressed." Miss Dabrisse held out her arms and a small toad-like man ran to her side, sliding her thick fur coat off her shoulders to reveal an elegant but rather revealing silver dress.

She marched over and posed seductively in front of the white backdrop. "I have another appointment at five so if we could finish up here quickly..." Demie bit her tongue, shaking more thoughts about wandless hexes from her mind and picking up one of the many cameras from her work-desk.

"Have you seen the news lately Miss Robins?" Monica asked casually, pouting down the lens. She was here to do a cover for some Muggle teen magazine, well paid work for both herself and Demie.

"No I stopped watching years ago. There was never anything but fighting and death." Demie muttered, edging round the room and taking a few extra shots from a new angle whilst Monica's entourage watched like hawks, ready to attack her with their make-up brushes and hair pins if she took an unflattering shot.

"Oh I find it great entertainment." Monica muttered. "Especially all the stories about the Wizard Confinement Camps."

Demelza's fingers stiffened around her camera. She knew exactly what Miss Dabrisse was talking about of course- one of the Prime-Minister's 'most brilliant' ideas had been a reinvention of the labour camps used by the Nazi's back in the Muggle World Wars.  
It was utterly horrific. The mere mention of them made her feel light headed as blood rushed to her head and bile to her throat in fury.

Monica giggled again. "Apparently they've started _breeding_. They showed this picture of a child- such a dirty little thing. They'd locked it up in a cage."

"A child can hardly be punished for something it knows nothing about." Demie hissed, her tone struggling to mask the sudden surge of anger.

Monica looked at her smugly. "Well it's their own fault for being born into...," she paused as her lip curled, "..._that kind_."

Swallowing hard, Demie quelled her fingers as they trembelled with resentment.  
"Perhaps you shouldn't talk anymore." Monica looked at her blankly. "We wouldn't want to blur any of the pictures."

She held Demie's gaze for a minute before smirking. "You're the expert," she frowned suddenly. "Wait do you...do you hear something?"  
Demie frowned and glanced out the window.

The next second, a deep rumble seemed to rip throughout the entire building. The floor beneath their feet began to tremble violently as Demie fell against her desk for support whilst the lights began to flicker and spark uncontrollably above. The rumbling grew to a roar, the screams of Monica and her entourage lost into the terrifying screeching and crashing of metal and stone as the walls began to shake and the plastering collapse around them. The glass panes in the large windows sent crystal shards suddenly scattering around the room as they were blasted apart, a cold rush of air now churning in through the open side of the building.  
And then the very next second, the world became still again.

Carefully, Demie clambered to her feet in confusion, her ears ringing and blood trickling from her lip which she must have banged against the table. Claire came running into the room, the faint sound of car horns and police sirens wailing in the street below.

"What in Merlin's name is going on?" Demie whispered, momentarily forgetting her pretence with her words as she gazed around her tattered studio in disbelief. The whole outer side of the room had been completely torn apart. It seemed a miracle none of them were seriously hurt.

"Demie you have got to see this!" Claire shrieked, pulling her arm. "Come outside, you've just got to see this!"

She nodded deafly, letting herself be dragged past Monica Dabrisse as she was mothered by her entourage, still in shocked confusion.  
The whole thing had barely lasted thirty seconds...

Claire pulled her through the reception, the desk had toppled, papers and pencils scattered across the floor, and blowing out through the front doors- one of which had been entirely pulled free of its hinges.  
What could hit so quickly and with such force?

Outside in the street the chaos had become pandemonium. Cars were littered along the road, some lying askew across the junction, others left running as their owners jumped out to join the flood of people running in panic to the end of the street. The two women stumbled along blindly, following the stream of Londoners down the road and around the corner.

As they stumbled onto Coventry Street Demelza stopped suddenly, a gasp escaping her bloodied and parted lips as her eyes widened in disbelief, her lungs gasping for air. The large crowd of people had swarmed around the mangled foundations of what could only be described as the _ruins_ of the Thistle Piccadilly Hotel. The once enormous building, that had stood gleaming in the crisp morning sunshine only hours before, had been reduced to a mess of rubble and awkwardly angled steel girders that jutted from the ground with sharp determination. But it was not this that had sent Demie's heart pumping frantically inside her chest and her mind racing with an unimaginable mess of thoughts.

Directly above the buildings remains, flashing and sparking in bright flashes of red and orange like frozen fireworks there were four simple words; their meaning clear enough even without the clearly magical theatrics:

**THE REVOLUTION HAS ARRIVED**


	3. II In The Dead Of Night

**A/N: **Hello! If you're reading this then thanks for making it all the way to the 3rd chapter! Wahey! We're now edging towards actual action territory so I hope you enjoy and don't forget to R&R. It'll make me a very happy teapot!

* * *

**Chapter II**

**In The Dead Of Night  
**

"Please tell me you had nothing to do with this?!" Demelza shrieked down the phone.  
It had taken an entire day for the communications services to un-jam the phone lines as thousands of frantic callers rang in to radio stations and help lines across the country, all trying to find out what the Hell was going on.

Yesterday evening, the Prime-Minister had made a public announcement, confirming that the bombing and so called 'revolution' had been orchestrated by Witches andWizards that had managed to slip under their acute radar and that everyone should be vigil and wary- to trust nobody. Not neighbours, not colleagues, not even your own family.

"Unfortunately no." Fred replied calmly down the phone, the hint of excitement in his voice. "But isn't this amazing Dems? I mean finally something--"

"_Amazing_?" Her voice rose uncontrollably. "Fred, they completely destroyed an entire building, who knows how many people were inside!"

She heard him chuckle. "Ah, now that's the clever thing. It was empty."

Demie frowned. "But it was on the news. They said-"

"Well ignore what the news said Dems, Merlin knows those media morons have been eating out of the Government's hand for donkey's years. The building was empty for renovations. It's just Thackery trying to form another of his hate campaigns."

She groaned and closed her eyes, stretching the phone cord as she plonked herself down at the kitchen table. On her Mother's insistence she'd spent the night back at her family's house. _"Just in case..."_ Her Mum had said. In case of what exactly she wasn't sure, but it did feel better to be out of the city, at least for the moment.

She could easily believe what Fred was saying. William Thackery, the Muggle Prime-Minister, had used exactly the same tactics back in the troubles. He'd created public pandemonium by feeding stories of massacres and slaughter at the hands of Wizards which had never even occurred- or at least been proven. It made people feel scared and, as any good social psychologist could tell you, when people get scared they tend to get angry too and so the wizarding community had quickly become enemy number one.

It looked like it was about to happen all over again and maybe this time, the Robins family wouldn't be quite so lucky.

"But aren't you in the least bit excited Dems?" Fred broke her deep thought. "Maybe this is our chance? We could-"

"Don't you even think about it." She snapped. "Whoever these people are, they're practically suicidal."  
She closed her eyes, unsure of what she was trying to say. She wasn't sure what she was even thinking. "Look, it's not that I'm not..." What was the right word? "..._intrigued_ by it all, it's just I don't want to see my best friend on the ten o' clock news being sentenced to life imprisonment!"

He scoffed. "I think they'll be getting a hell of a lot more than that, if they're ever caught mind you. I'd say nothing less than a death sentence."

She massaged her tired forehead. "Exactly my point! Look, why don't you come and stay with us for a while. Stop me worrying about you."

Fred laughed down the line. "Oh don't be daft Robins! I promise not to go joining vigilante groups or blowing up Tower Bridge any time soon."

"Any time _at all_." She corrected.

"Besides..." He muttered, his laid back tone driving her crazy. "George still isn't back from visiting Angelina so someone has to stay and manage the stores."

She pursed her lips and sighed. "You're always so bloody stubborn..."

Fred chuckled again. "Look, I'll be fine Dems, honest. If I were you I'd be keeping an eye on your Adam, now there's a rebellion leader if ever I saw one." She cocked an eyebrow, leaning back on the chair so she could just see round the door and into the living room, where her older brother sat watching the latest news reports.

"I bet he's been taking a rather keen interest..." Fred mused.

"He's been glued to the telly all day."

"Told you, see? You've got plenty to worry about without me. I'll give you a call tomorrow, get some rest okay?"  
Demie mumbled a goodbye and slung the phone back on its receiver, leaning back against the wall and closing her eyes. Maybe she should take her friends advice and try to sleep, after all she hadn't caught a wink last night and she'd need all the energy she could get if she was going to have to tie Adam down to stop him joining this so-called 'Revolution.' She trudged through into the living room, curling up on the sofa beside him and watching a news reporter with perfect hair and a crisp suit telling them the same story as last night. It was obvious that no-one actually knew how the attack had happened. They'd had military and security experts brought on constantly, all giving their professional opinions, but it was clear to see that every single one of them had been just as clueless as the next.

"What an arse." Adam grimaced as the Home Secretary's official press conference was re-played for the fifth time that day. "He's talking bollocks, I mean how the Hell does he know how many of them there were? There could've been five hundred and his shitty little security guards wouldn't have noticed."

Demie smiled slightly and rolled her eyes. "Where are Mum and Dad?"

"Shopping." Adam muttered, not taking his eyes off the screen. "They needed some extra food now we're all staying."

"You say that as if you've got somewhere else to go." She chuckled tiredly.

He shot her a wicked grin. "True."

* * *

A floor above, Nicola sat in her room, eyes reflecting the fuzzy computer image of a downloaded picture. She'd heard about the bombings as soon as her sister had rung home and a few minutes later it was all over the television. That morning's papers were splashed with stories too, some speculating who might have organised the attack, what kind of 'revolution' the Muggle public could expect and one obscure tabloid with the headline:

**I slept with the Wizarding Rebellion Leader.**

She'd cut them all out as soon as her Dad had finished reading and rushed to the internet, searching through on-line articles and photographs. She stared at one now, the blurry pixels not doing the scene enough justice as those four ominous words hovered almost gracefully against the city backdrop, simple and yet terrifyingly threatening. Nicola would have given anything to be there, like her sister, to be able to stand on the streets of London and stare up at this declaration of war. She squinted at the words on her computer screen.

"'The revolution has arrived...'" She whispered. Merlin it felt good to say them.

She sighed and leant back in her chair. The room was getting stuffy.  
It wasn't that Nicola was obsessed, that wasn't the right word, no, it _teased _and _captivated_ her.  
She'd never had a chance to explore her gifts like her siblings. She'd only managed to attend Hogwarts for one year before it had been shut down by the troubles and so she'd simply been left floating in between two worlds with no help or guidance or chance to use all the energy building up inside her.  
The problem with hiding things, is that eventually there becomes too much to keep hidden and it all explodes out in every direction. Nicola knew this first hand.  
She hated having to keep her magic hidden, the magic she'd never really got to know and she wanted this 'revolution' to hit. **H****ard**.

Her parents assumed that she was simply a rebellious teen, that when she ran off at night it was to meet boys and drink alcohol but it was so much more than that. Six months ago, she'd found the answer to her prayers and his name was Ryan.  
It was a Friday morning and Nicola had been sent out of class for the third time that week- it was time to see the Headmaster. She'd gone to his office, knocked, no reply. Never one to simply stand around in corridors she'd let herself in and there he was. Ryan Marshall, the school trouble maker, setting fire to the Headmaster's waste basket by shooting sparks from a thin piece of wood.

Nicola had recognised it immediately. _A wand_. Her heart had almost stopped right there and then. She used to have one, as did her brother and sister but it'd been locked away in a trunk in their attic along with spell books and potions equipment that they'd once used at school.

There'd been a strange moment in that office. The two teenagers had simply stared at each other. Ryan no doubt had thought his world had just collapsed in on itself and that he'd finally been caught out. Until, that is, Nicola had strolled over to him, holding his alert gaze and, taking his wand in her own hand, had set fire to the curtains as well.  
Of course she'd been aiming for the paper tray but that's what happens when you never get chance to practice.

A few weeks later, Ryan had introduced her to a few others teens, all of whom had been forced into a Muggle life with their magic cruelly stolen from them. They broke the rules, sneaking out past the Government curfews to fire childish spells down the deserted streets when no-one was watching.

They were the deprived and frustrated generation.

The door banged shut downstairs and Nicola jerked upright in her seat, quickly closing her internet page and grabbing the newspaper cuttings, sliding them under her bed and out of sight.

"We're back!!" Her mother called up the stairs as Nicola closed her bedroom door, jogging down into the living room and hopping onto the couch between her two siblings and frowning at the TV.

"What's happened now?" she muttered, tying her dyed black hair up into a messy bun.

Demie shook her head. "Nothing. Thackery's closed off the centre of London but that's all."

"Oh look at the lot of you..." Their mother appeared in the doorway, a half empty shopping bag in one hand. "I bet you've been there all day too, it's not healthy." Demie looked over and half-smiled at her, she could see the tense jaw line and the tired but alert eyes. She was a worried woman. "Adam, go help your Father get the bags out the car."

"Be there any minute..." he muttered, waving the TV remote in the air and staring at the screen.

"Now," she replied sternly, waiting till he had heaved himself upright and slumped out the front door before heading back to the kitchen.

Demelza sighed and leant back into the sofa, cradling her mug of tea in her hands and glancing across at her little sister. "Dad told me about your great escape the other night." Nicola looked up and grimaced a little. "Nicky you've really got to be careful-"

"Oh don't you start too, I've had enough of Mum and Dad getting at me without you-."

"They're only worried about you Nicky!" Demie watched her worriedly, her eyes were never leaving the TV screen. "I mean, especially with all this going on, if an Officer caught you out past curfew..." She didn't need to finish the sentence, both girls knew exactly what Nicola would be in for.

Nicola sighed angrily and hoisted herself off the couch. "I'm going out."

"Oh come on Nicky, I'm not trying to-"

"I'll be back in an hour," she snapped, grabbing her jacket off the hooks out in the hall and wrenching open the door, her sister hot on her trail.

"Nicky please, I'm not trying to tell you what to do-"

"It's easy for you!" Nicola shouted, suddenly turning on her heel in the middle of the driveway and glaring back at her sister. "You had the chance to actually use your magic, to see what it felt like to control it, to learn about it! What did I get? Nothing! Half a term on the basics of charms and that was it, it was all over!"  
Demelza stood there in shock, arms hanging loosely by her side as she watched her sister rage in front of her. Nicola just stood there, unexpected tears pricking at her eyes, her hands clenched into fists and trembling with frustration.  
"And then yesterday, you were right there! Right in the very middle of it all and you couldn't care less could you? You just want to slip back into your safe and boring Muggle life like the rest of them and-"

"BLOODY HELL NICOLA!" She jerked round to find Adam and her Father racing towards them, sheer horror and panic on their faces.  
"What the hell do you think you're doing, you stupid, stupid girl?!" Her Father grabbed her shoulders and began wrenching her back inside.

"Let go of me!" Nicola struggled out of her his furious grip and tore off down the driveway, tears flowing freely now. "I _hate_ this f*cking family!"

"Adam get after her!" Their father roared, turning on Demie who was still stood in disbelief, staring after Nicola as she charged down the street.  
"How can she be so bloody irresponsible?" he spat, glancing around nervously at the neighbouring houses. He was sure he saw next doors curtains twitch...

"What's going on?" His wife appeared in the front door, eyes frantic and an apron on back to front.

"You're bloody daughter almost just sold us all to Thackery that's what." He stormed back inside as Adam came trudging back towards the house, panting for breath.

"No use, she disappeared down some side street..." He took Demelza by the shoulders gently, brow furrowed. "Come on Dems, let's get inside before the neighbours see."

* * *

It was almost half eleven and still no sign of Nicola. Demelza was lying in her old bedroom, staring up at the ceiling and fiddling with the duvet nervously. This was all her fault. She should have just left Nicky alone...but there was no use thinking like that.  
Her parents were still awake and waiting, she could hear the TV faintly from downstairs. Nicky had now been out an hour and a half past the legal curfew and not even a phone call to say she was alright. Demie and Adam had opted to try and catch some sleep, though Demie had a feeling her brother was probably lying there just like her, too worried and mind too frantic to even feel remotely tired.

There was a noise from downstairs. A faint tinkle of glass.  
Demie sighed and turned on her side, how would she ever be able to forgive herself if something happened to Nicola?  
There was another smash of glass from downstairs, louder this time. Demie sat up, brushing the covers to the side and frowning slightly as she strained to listen.  
She jumped as a third smash echoed around the house followed by the booming clank of something metal and a loud hiss of gas. Then her Mother screamed.

Demie bolted up out of bed just as her bedroom door flung open. Her Mother was screaming again and there were shouts, lots of loud, deep voices barking things through the house. She looked up wide eyed as Adam rushed into her room and wrenched her towards the door.

."We've got to get out of here." He hissed, already charging out onto the hall landing, gripping onto her wrist tightly. They raced to the top of the stairs in total darkness both terrified and disorientated. Adam lunged back against the wall, pulling Demie with him as they stared down in utter horror at the chaos downstairs. There were dozens of men in heavy black uniforms storming into the house, torch lights darting along the walls and the clicking of the safety catches on their guns jarring amongst the shouts and orders.

"What-?" Demelza shrieked.

"It's the f*cking police." Adam snapped angrily, still gripping hold of her hand and keeping pressed back into the shadows. There was another burst of screaming and Demie watched as two stocky men in dark masks and uniforms hauled her Mother out of the living room and threw her into the hall, closely followed by her Father who they smacked in the face with the blunt end of their guns when he tried to call out. She heard the crack and damp squelch of his nose being broken.  
Adam clamped a hand down over her mouth to stifle her screams.

"Come on," he hissed, wrenching her back towards her room and throwing open the window. "Climb out and get onto the garage roof!" He pushed her towards the gaping window.

"I can't!" She hissed frantically, horrified tears streaking down her face as she gripped onto the window ledge and peered out with terrified eyes. There was a clatter on the stairs and more shouts as heavy footsteps began pounding upwards, the torch beams bouncing off the walls just outside the bedroom door.

"For f*cks sake Dem!" Adam hissed, giving her another urgent shove. With shaking arms, Demie grabbed hold of the window frame and hauled herself into the gap, letting her bare feet dangle out into the cold night air, a good few metres above the garage roof. Adam was already clambering up into the gap behind her and so with a shaky breath she let go of the window ledge and simply fell.  
For a horrifying second there seemed to be nothing beneath her but eventually she fell against the tiled roof of the outbuilding with a crack, whether it was the tiles or her legs breaking she couldn't tell but she didn't have much time to think as she scrambled quickly along the roof as Adam landed next to her only a split second later. There was more shouting and they both jerked round to see torches beaming out of the open window and two men in black raid masks hauling themselves out after them.

Adam grabbed her hand again and scrambled across the unstable tiles, his feet knocking some to the ground below where they shattered in the darkness. Demie felt the whole roof jolt beneath her as the first of the two officers landed behind them and then she was slipping, hands clawing out for support but barely scratching against the tiles. She was falling again, her hair thrown back in a mad tangle until she landed amongst the broken roof tiles on the driveway.

Now there was gunfire.

Shots began raining down around them as her brother appeared beside her, grabbed her arm once again and tore out onto the street, dodging the empty police cars and black riot van that had crept silently into their driveway only minutes before. There were more shouts and another round of gunfire. Adam jerked forwards slightly but kept running, pulling Demie along like a rag doll behind him. There was a searing pain in his right leg and a flooding warmth like fresh blood seeping into his jeans.

Demelza glanced back over her shoulder, just in time to see her terrified parents being shoved roughly into the back of the armoured van whilst other officers lurched towards the cars to keep up the chase.  
Adam kept running, he was only barely aware of the dull throb in his leg, half blinded by the panic and adrenaline as they sprinted down the dark street. Lights began flickering on in the nearby houses as the blare of police sirens started up somewhere behind them and Demie only had time to catch a glimpse of the screeching tyres and blinding blue and red lights before she was thrown out of sight down a side alley and disappeared completely into the darkness.


	4. III Fugitives

**Chapter III**

**Fugitives**

**  
**Demelza stood in the shadow of a large willow tree in small park at the far end of the street from her photography studio. She and Adam had been running for the past three hours to get here and now she found herself exhausted, shivering in the cold as her simple white night dress whipped around her legs and still in complete shock as watched a large group of darkly clothed police officers milling about by her studio doors. They had expected them to run this way.

Demie glanced down at her brother sat against the base of the tree, one leg stretched out awkwardly with a large deep red stain flooding through the fabric of his jeans.

"Are you alright?" she whispered, eyes wide, dropping to her knees on the damp grass beside him.

"I've been shot in the bloody leg Dem, what do you think?" Adam cracked a pained grin. It didn't make her feel any better.

She stood up again, clutching at herself in a vain attempt to keep warm as her mind raced, this was just pure madness. She'd been chased from her home, shot at, her parents abducted and her little sister Merlin only knew where and now she was helpless, hiding in a deserted park in the dead of night watching a group of raid officers destroy her apartment whilst her severely injured brother was slowly bleeding to death beside her. It felt like she was watching some overdramatic movie on TV and all she wanted, more than anything, was to turn it off and go to bed. She smudged the oncoming tears away with the back of her hand and took a deep but shaky breath. It was all happening so fast...

"Fred..." Adam hissed as she glanced back over her shoulder. "We could go to Fred's, he'd help us I know it."

"No," she muttered firmly, eyes darting back to the police officers at the other end of the street. "I'm not bringing him into this, it's not fair."

"Demie this is Fred Weasley we're talking about here. He'd be furious if you _didn't_ get him involved-"

"I said no Adam," she swallowed quickly to stop the bile rising in her throat. Her entire world had just crashed down around her and understandably, she felt sick to her stomach. "They're leaving..." Adam pulled himself up against the tree, gingerly resting on his injured leg and watching over her shoulder as the group of men began heading for their cars. They'd obviously given up the wait.

"We should stay here for a bit...," he muttered, pulling Demelza round the back of the tree as the patrol cars began heading silently down the street. "...Make sure they've all gone."  
They waited another half an hour, eyes glued to the building for any sign of remaining officers, neither speaking a word.

"They must've gone-," Demie eventually started but Adam cut her off.

"Just give it a while, sometimes they station officers to wait inside just in case criminals turn up."  
Criminals. The word stung both of them with its sheer injustice. How could they be considered criminals? They'd done nothing wrong but be born with a gift that the Muggle world didn't understand. Demie glanced down at her brother's leg. The stain seemed even darker now.

"Adam we need to get you inside. If you lose any more blood you're going to faint and I don't know if I can carry you...," her voice was pleading, she was close to tears.

"Alright...fine. You'll have to support me."  
She nodded and wrapped an arm around his waist, holding him upright as steadily as she could as the pair of them began to struggle slowly across the road and down the street. They paused a few doorways down, hidden in the porch of an electrical appliances store before hurrying the last few yards and into the relative safety of Demelza's apartment. She helped Adam through the doors as she glanced across the road at the remains of the studio, the doors wrenched off and the upstairs window blown out from yesterday's bombings.

"Come on," Adam muttered. "We'd better get upstairs."  
Demie's apartment was three floors up, with a clear view of her old studio along the street and the rest of the deserted road. Together, they struggled up the stairs, Adam gripping the banister and biting back profanities as the pain shot to his leg with every move.

The door to her flat was ajar. The police had been ransacking the place, no doubt about it. What they would have been looking for, she didn't know. Papers, details about her and her family? Magical equipment perhaps? Whatever it was, it didn't look like they'd had much success in finding it.

She took a step forward, leaving Adam resting against the doorframe, the sound of glass crunching into her carpet under her feet made her freeze in fear. She flicked the lights, the electricity had been cut just as it had been back at her parent's house, the police had obviously raided here too in the hopes of finding Demie alone. She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself to keep out a chilling cold that had nothing to do with the weather.

Demie moved slowly around the room, it had been all but destroyed. Draws had been wrenched from their cabinets, the contents discarded across the floor along with sofa cushions and books from the broken set of shelves in the corner. It practically broke her heart to see it. She'd loved this little flat.

"Where's your wand?" Adam hissed, eyes glancing around the room furtively as if expecting an ambush any second.

"W-what?" Demie looked up at him with startled eyes.

"Your wand?" he looked back at her firmly.

"Adam we can't-"

"For f*ck's sake Dem they already know! By now they've probably got our entire family history up on some Government computer, everything down to our second cousins twice removed!" He grabbed her shoulders as her lower lip began to tremble. "This isn't about pretending anymore Demie. This is about survival. And to survive...you need your wand."

She gulped back tears and nodded, stumbling blindly through the darkness into her bedroom. This too had been searched, bed sheets thrown back in abandon, the mattress flipped and lurching off the bed frame and curtains torn from their rail. Everywhere looked like a crime scene.  
She scrambled through the wreckage to her bedside table and yanked open the drawer, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw the familiar little black hairbrush sitting neatly in its place, clearly too unimportant for the police to bother with.

But they were wrong.  
Demie picked up the brush and with a slow flick of the wrist and a whispered _"Finite incantatem,"_ the small and insignificant hairbrush began its re-transfiguration process. The bristles vanished, the handle slimmed down and just like that Demelza Robins was armed and dangerous.  
She hurried back into the living room, clutching her wand tightly and headed over to Adam, slumped down in the cushion-less sofa.

"Perguarire," she mumbled, a dull red glow emitting from the tip of her wand and surrounding her brother's leg. Adam hissed and clenched his jaw shut as the spell took effect.  
"It's not fully healed, I never learnt how to do that but it should stop you losing anymore blood."

Adam nodded in thanks as she slumped down on the floor in exhaustion, her wand still grasped firmly in her hand. It felt like the skin of her very fingers was buzzing from the touch of it, she hadn't used magic in so long that she'd forgotten what it felt like or what to expect.

"Lock the door Dem...," Adam murmured.

"Colloportus." The tingling in her hand grew stronger and she half smiled, she hadn't even had to think about that one- she'd remembered the incantation just like that.

"What else have you got?" Adam, forced himself upright and looked about the room. "Books, potions?"

Demie shook her head. "Nothing. I daren't keep anything in case...," she trailed off.

"In case this happened." Adam finished for her, the reality of the danger of their situation hitting home once again. Demelza closed her eyes and let her head fall into her hands, her whole body shaking with tears that never came. She was simply too shocked and too tired to cry.

"Why did they come after us? I mean how did they know?"

"It's Nicky. They'll have heard her." Adam said sternly, staring straight ahead and trying to think.

"Who? Who heard her?"

"Those bleedin' neighbours, that's who!" he snapped. "That Mrs Wenston-Jones or whatever her name is, the one from across the street. She's been sniffing around for months so Dad says. She'll have taken the first chance she got and called the police."

Demie looked up at him in confusion. "Dad never said anything-"

"Yeah well he didn't want to worry you did he?"

She shook her head in disbelief, squeezing her tired and bloodshot eyes shut and running a hand through her matted brown hair.  
"So what in Merlin's name are we going to do?"

"Well its obvious isn't it?"

She looked over at him, startled. "Oh yeah Adam, it's just staring me in the face-"

"We join the movement," he muttered, his eyes never losing focus as he thought through a plan in his head.

"_Movement_?" Demie snapped, her forehead creasing in bewilderment. "What movement?"

"The revolution Dem," he glanced down at her, clambering unsteadily to his feet. "You must've realised it's the only sensible thing to do."

She gaped at him. "Sensible? Adam which definition of sensible does joining a reckless, violent vigilante group of suicidal wizards come under?"

"They've taken our parents!" he suddenly shouted, drawing himself up to his full height and looking down at her angrily. "And by now they've probably got Nic too. We're _fugitives_ Demelza. Now you tell me who's going to want to help out a witch and a wizard on the run from the law?" She stuttered blindly for an answer as he stared down at her darkly.  
"Exactly. These rebellion people are the only ones who'll give us a chance at getting our family back and I happen to think that's a pretty good thing to want to fight for."

He stared at her hard, her arguments dying away in her throat as she looked at him. He'd never been so serious about anything in his whole life and she knew it just from his eyes.

"Alright...," she whispered, desperately trying to comprehend what she was agreeing to. "How do we find them?"  
A loud, sharp banging on the door made them bother jerk backwards against the wall, eyes suddenly wide and afraid.

"DEMIE?" A shrill, female voice shouted before a stubby hand, followed by a pair of bright blue eyes, appeared through the letterbox.

"Claire!" She started forward in bewilderment at the sight of her secretary peeking through her letterbox at half three in the morning.  
Adam held her back with a firm arm across her shoulders.

"What...what's the matter?" Demie called back, trying to sound calm and failing miserably.

"I was just worried that's all!" Her kindly voice sounded unusually strained. "I could see out of my window..."  
Demie suddenly remembered that Claire only lived a few houses down on the other side of the street. She'd probably seen everything.  
Ignoring Adam's protests, Demie ran to the door, whispering _"Alohamora_" before tucking her wand firmly in the pocket of her nightdress and opening the door to her. Claire stumbled in, bewildered, worried and like Demie- still dressed in her pyjamas.

"What on Earth's going on Demie?" she spoke quickly, her voice a much higher pitch than usual and Demie was suddenly flooded with a new found appreciation for her bumbling secretary, who obviously cared enough about her to break the curfew law just to check she was alright.  
"All the police were outside and then just now that big van pulling in round by the back doors!"

Demelza's heart froze in her chest. She glanced over at Adam whose face had also just turned a ghostly white. She looked back at Claire, her chest heaving as if she'd just sprinted the few hundred yards from her apartment. "What...van?"

Claire stared at her in bewilderment. "The big black one! It pulled into the parking lot behind the building about ten minutes ago! It had one of those big round satellite things on the roof," she attempted to demonstrate with her arm. "You know the sort they listen into things with?"

"Merlin, Dem we have to get out of here. _Now._" Adam was pacing the room, still limping slightly on his wounded leg.  
Claire saw the blood on his jeans and gripped Demie's hand a little tighter.

"Demie what...?" She trailed off, her eyes growing wild as she took in the ransacked surroundings for the first time.

"Now Dem!" Adam started shouting.

"I can't just leave her here Adam!" she turned on her brother, the fear etched plainly in her voice. "If they find her here then she's in just as much trouble as we are!"  
There was a crash from the kitchen, further down the hall. Claire screamed as Demie pulled her instinctively over to Adam.

"The skylight window! They're coming in from the roof!" Demie shouted and, in another second, her wand was back in her hand.  
"I'm so sorry Claire..." She pointed the tip at her terrified secretary. "_Stupefy!_"  
The bright red flash reflected in the masked helmets of the police officers breaking through the living room door, raising their guns to chest height as Adam grabbed his sister's wrist and turned on the spot.

The unfamiliar, uncomfortable feeling of being squeezed down a tight tube enveloped them, the blank, dark faces of the armed officers surrounding them vanishing into a whirling blur of colour as a rough wind seemed to blow them along in the new darkness.  
Demie's feet hit solid ground. Adam was buckled over beside her, clutching his leg, his spare hand still grasping hold of a stupefied Claire's arm.

"W-where are we?" Demelza stammered, the dizzying sensation of side-along apparition was more than a shock to the system after four years.

"First safe place that came into my head," Adam looked up at her gravely, his pain evident in his firmly set jaw line. "The Burrow."

* * *

The more Demie blinked into the darkness, the more she began to make out the familiar shapes of the crooked walls of the Burrow. A light flickered on in one of the upstairs rooms. Someone had obviously heard them arrive. Kicking away an overly curious gnome from Claire's stupefied body, Adam hoisted her over his shoulder and, limping worse than ever, led the way to the front door.

More lights were flicking on around the house and Demie could hear shouts from various members of the Weasley family coming from within the walls. She and Adam exchanged one last glance before he raised a hand and knocked firmly on the door.  
There was a clattering of foot-steps on the rickety staircase and a crash that sounded faintly like a stack of kitchen pots being knocked over before a frantic looking Ginny Weasley wrenched open the door.

She stared at the three of them in surprise for a moment. "Oh...I thought you were-"

"Ginny, no!" Ron Weasley roared from behind her, rushing to her side and pulling her safely behind him.  
"_Expelliarmus!"_ Demie's wand flew out of her hand before she had a chance to react.

"Weasley you blind git!" Adam shouted beside her, dropping a lifeless Claire to the ground rather unceremoniously. "What the hell do you think you're playing at?"

"Sorry mate but safety first and all that," Ron didn't lower his wand. "Ginny get the veritaserum!"

Demelza's eyes snapped back up to Ron's face from where they'd been searching for her wand, now lost in the grass in the darkness. "But we need your help! Please Ron, they've taken our parents and Nicola's--"

"We know," he cut in, his voice softer. Even he could tell the pleading in her voice was desperate and he had the emotional range of a teaspoon after all.  
"It's all over the Muggle TV stations, but we still have to be careful..."

Ginny had appeared at his side again with two small vials of pink liquid. "Please?"  
She held them out, with a half smile at Demie. "Stops Mum getting paranoid."

"For f*ck's sake...," Adam mumbled angrily, grabbing one of the vials and yanking the cork stopper out. The pair of them swallowed the mouthful of potion they contained, shaking off the bitter taste it left and turned back to the two suspicious Weasleys.

Ron didn't seem too sure where to begin. "Erm...what are your names?"

"Demelza Emily Robins." "Adam Benjamin Robins."

"Right..." Ron nodded, his wand flitting between the both of them. "So, where do you live?"

Demie frowned in frustration. "Apartment Twelve C, Ashville Terrace, Leicester Square." "3 Crescent Terrace."

Ron grinned at Adam. "You still live with your parents?"

Adam grimaced and folded his arms. "You're one to talk." Ron glared.

"Fine. Why are you here?"

Demie took a deep breath. "The police broke into our home and arrested our parents, our little sister is missing and we're being chased by a group of armed officers. Oh and I've stupefied my receptionist and Adam's been shot in the leg."

Ron stared at her in astonishment before glancing down at Adam's blood stained leg and turning a shade greener than usual. "Right well then...you'd better come in."

* * *

~ (P.S. Reviews make me happy!)


	5. IV Plans And Portkeys

(**A/N: **Massive apologies for the wait for updates. Had an absolutely hectic few weeks but hope to get back on the writing bandwagon and back on track with both stories asap! Look out for Malfoy Alphabet updates any day now! Quite a long chapter so sit back, relax, maybe grab yourself a nice cool pina colada and enjoy! xxx ~)

* * *

**Chapter IV**

**Plans and Portkeys**

Inside the Burrow, everything automatically felt better. The familiar smells, the slightly old-fashioned decor, even if it was devoid of all the old homely magical charms, even the mess; it all helped Demelza relax a little as she sat quietly in the living room. In fact it was only when she allowed herself to think about their situation or look around the room at her anxious hosts that the overwhelming, blinding wave of terror would rush back.

Directly across from her, Percy and Charlie Weasley were arguing over the best healing charm to use on Adam's leg whilst Fred was carefully tying thick strips of material around the wrists and ankles of a still stupefied Claire. Mrs Weasley, looking more aged and strained than Demelza had ever seen her, was attempting to busy herself by making hot cups of tea and coffee for no-one in particular whilst Ginny sat beside the window, staring quietly out into the night and seemingly uninterested in the action around her.

Demelza rubbed her tired eyes and tried to sort out her mental bearings. Twelve hours ago she'd been at home, curled up on the sofa with both siblings and parents safely under one roof. They'd all been worried about the recent events but then anxiety wasn't new to any of them. After surviving hidden away for so long, none of them really expected to become the latest family to take a hit. But they had been and it had been one Hell of a blow.

She sighed, utterly exhausted, her shoulders sagging as she glanced down at her tattered nightgown. There were several tears in the flimsy white fabric and a few eye-catching blood spatters, both from Adam's shot wounds and her own rather nasty collection of cuts and bruises. Ginny, who was now watching her passively, stood and held out a hand.

"Come on," she muttered quietly, "I've got some clothes you can borrow."

Demelza nodded and slowly got to her feet, taking Ginny's hand as the pair of them headed upstairs. Inside the youngest Weasley's room, very little had changed. Every time Demelza had visited her old school friend, she had been struck by how much her bedroom seemed cemented in the past. The walls were adorned with red and gold Gryffindor flags, a school scarf pinned above the bed and none of the photographs were occupied by a version of Ginny that looked older than nineteen. The two largest photographs in the room, both of which, along with the rest, had been magically frozen, showed a very spirited, carefree version of the quiet girl now slowly rooting through her drawers. The first had been taken in the Weasley's back garden only weeks, Demelza guessed, before Harry had vanished. The two of them were sat beneath the shadow of a large tree, Ginny curled up happily in Harry's arms as they grinned at the camera.

But it was the other of the two photographs that Demelza found brought a startlingly painful lump to her throat. It was a simple portrait of the entire Weasley family, taken when Ginny looked no older than nine years old. The whole brood, Arthur Weasley at the head, looked so happy and relaxed, all blissfully unaware of the horrors to come almost a decade later. What saddened Demelza the most about the picture though, was that she knew it would never be possible to ever take one like it again. Ginny's eldest brother Bill had been killed in one of the more violent stand-offs between Muggle and Wizard-kind. Although she hadn't been there herself, Demelza had heard the stories and Bill Weasley had quickly become known as one of the bravest fallen heroes of the war.

But that hadn't been the only loss the Weasley family had sustained. Very near the end of the troubles, only a few months before Shacklebolt's final message, Arthur Weasley had also passed away. As one of the senior Ministry officials at the time, the stress had taken a serious toll on Ginny's Father and eventually his heart had simply given up the fight. He had seemed so young at the time to die like that, of a simple coronary attack but Mrs Weasley had always maintained it was the best way. It had literally killed him to see his beloved Muggles turn against him and his family in such an evil and malevolent way.

It was a testament to Molly's strong family ethics that the rest of the Weasley family were still alive and together.

Demelza looked up at Ginny who was now busy pulling out sweaters from her small wardrobe. At the time, she could only imagine the internal struggle Ginny must have been going through, losing her Father, brother and fiancé within the space of such a short time. Now, as Demelza herself was reeling from the sudden upheaval of her own family, she was beginning to understand how easy it had been for Ginny to become the shell of the girl she had once stayed up all night laughing alongside in the Gryffindor common room.

"Do you still think about them?" Demelza whispered, clutching the Weasley family photograph in her lap. Ginny froze, facing into the wardrobe with one hand on a pair of spare jeans. A light rain began to tap on the bedroom window.

After a moment she nodded. "Every second," her voice was hoarse.  
Demie frowned. In retrospect it was a silly question. Anyone who knew the old Ginny could see how much she missed them, everything down to the way she dressed was different, duller somehow.

"Does it get any easier?" The initial shock of events was wearing off and Demie's eyes were slowly filling with tears.

"It hasn't yet." Ginny closed the wardrobe quietly and turned to face her, placing the pile of clothes gently on the bed beside her. "But you shouldn't be thinking about this. Your parents are going to be fine-"

"But they took them Gin!" Demie's voice began to rise, the first few salty streaks cascading over her cheeks. "People don't come back when they take them. They just...they just-"

Suddenly Ginny's arms were around her, pulling Demie's face into her shoulder as the exhaustion and stress of the evening overcame her. Her shoulders began shaking as sobs wracked through her body. Ginny stroked her hair soothingly, her own worries momentarily forgotten as her old school friend broke down before her.

"You should sleep," Ginny murmured. "I'll get Mum to make you a sleeping draught."

Demie lifted her head, all red nosed and bleary eyed. "No, I should-"

"_Sleep_," she stressed. "Whatever Fred and Adam are plotting can wait a few hours. Besides," she added with just the faintest hint of one of her old cheeky smiles, "you look bloody awful."

* * *

Demelza woke to the sound of raised voices.  
She blinked in the sunlight streaming through a crack in the curtains and sat upright. Glancing at the alarm clock on Ginny's bedside table, her eyes flew wide with panic. It was almost ten which meant she'd been asleep for nearly six hours. She hurried out of bed and stumbled, having to lean against the nearest wall for support. The sleeping draught had left her a little disorientated and a dull headache throbbed rhythmically at her temples.

What was going on? What had she missed?  
She shook off the faint feeling of rising nausea and grabbed at the clothes Ginny had left for her, pulling them on quickly and running out of the room. As she reached the landing, the voices grew louder.

"They have our parents Charlie!" A rather irate voice had begun shouting somewhere below.

"I know Adam, I know!" Demie practically tripped down the stairs before emerging onto the scene. Charlie and Adam were stood in the middle of the kitchen, the other Weasley's looking on as each of them attempted to stare the other down. Through an open door to the left, Demie could see Claire, seemingly still stupefied, lying motionless across a couch in the living room.

"But do you honestly think," Charlie continued, "that joining some rebellion and waging all out war against Thackery is going to help matters? I mean what do you intend to do exactly?"

Ron sighed from his seat at the table. "As much as I'm with you mate, Charlie's got a point. You're a wanted man. You can't exactly stroll up to Westminster with a list of demands."

"Well what do you suggest we do?" Demie, whose arrival till that point had gone unnoticed, spoke with a calm determination as she stepped forward.

Ginny had been right, sleep had been the perfect remedy. She was still afraid, terrified in fact, but she no longer wanted to collapse and cry about the situation- she wanted to try and do something about it. The more she thought about it, the more annoyed she was at herself and her physical and mental needs. If only she hadn't been so tired, her body so in need of rest and her mind so emotionally drained, they could have taken action hours ago. They had wasted time already.

Fred stepped to her side and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. She looked up at him, the resolve in her eyes never wavering. "We won't just sit here and try to wait it out. Our little sister's still out there."

Fred shook his head worriedly. "But it's just like you said Dems, these 'revolutionaries,' whoever they are, they're practically suicidal."

"Just another one of these vigilante groups at best," Charlie folded his arms, ignoring his mother when she tried to offer him yet another cup of tea. "And they'll probably be rounded up and dealt with just like the others."

Demelza pursed her lips and frowned. It was true, Thackery had always been particularly quick acting and cruel when it came to even the mildest signs of a Wizarding uprising. And this latest rebellion looked like it was going to be anything but mild.

"And how would we even know how to find them?" Ginny looked up from her coffee. Everyone turned to stare at her, so surprised that she'd volunteered her thoughts that none of them heard the sound of a key turning in a lock and the creak of the backdoor as it was slowly pushed open.

"I think _we_ might be able to help you there."  
All seven of them spun round in shock and a flurry of wands at the voice of the intruder. Percy was the first to aim but before he could utter a single hex, Mrs Weasley ran forward.

"George!" she cried, her relief evident as she flung her arms around his shoulders and squeezed him to her.

"Mum no!" Ron was still fumbling with his wand stuck tightly in his jeans pocket. "The veritaserum!"

Molly Weasley whipped round and glared at her youngest son. "You think I don't know one of my boys when I see them? Really Ronald he's you own brother for Merlin's sake!"

"But...," he flushed red, obviously taken aback by his mother's outrage. "But you were the one that said to be careful!"

"Oh Georgie," Molly ignored him, turning back to George and clutching his face in her hands. "We were so worried, you said you'd only be gone the night!"

"I know Mum, I'm sorry." He looked down at her solemnly, taking her hands in his and leading her back over to the table where he sat her down in a chair.  
"Something pretty important came up..."

Percy, who had only slightly lowered his wand, stepped carefully towards them. "You said _we_."  
George nodded and glanced over his shoulder towards the open doorway where Angelina Johnson had quietly stepped into view.

"Angie," Fred grinned, throwing his arms open wide and inviting her in for a hug. Ron simply huffed and rolled his eyes, clearly not impressed that all precautions were being thrown to the wind all of a sudden.

"Hello Freddie," she smiled up at him at him as she was engulfed into a trademark Weasley bear hug.  
"I'm sorry I kept George away so long Mrs Weasley, I don't think either of us realised how much there was to do."

"Well Ange," Adam, momentarily forgetting his battle with Charlie as everyone sank into seats around the large kitchen table, grinned across at her. "I've got to say I didn't quite believe it when Fred said you were back. And, I mean blimey do you look different! Good," he added hastily, "but different."

Her brother always was one to state the obvious, Demie thought to herself, smiling weakly as Mrs Weasley set a plate of warm, buttery toast down in front of her and started on another round of tea. Angelina had most definitely changed, in fact it had taken a moment for Demie to actually recognise her as she'd stood in the doorway. Her once long, dark, braided hair had been cut mercilessly short, framing her face with short spikes that made her cheekbones really quite striking. She'd also had her ears pierced, Demie noticed, the right one twice, and two silver studs gleamed when they caught in the light. And yet although she had obviously become more 'earthy,' _rebellious_ some might even have said, there was something about her new appearance that had an undeniable maturity to it. Almost as if she looked wiser somehow, more clued-up on the outside world. As if she'd lived through Hell and come out shining.

In fact, Demie realised with a chill, that's exactly what Angelina had done.

Accepting her coffee with a smile, she turned back to Adam. "Thanks and...I'm so sorry about the news. We saw it on almost all the TV stations this morning. We hoped you would have come here so we could find you easily enough and...try and help." She reached across the table and grasped Demie's hands in her own. "It's good to see you Dems," she added quietly, "and we will do everything we possibly can, I promise."

"Alright just hang on a second here." Charlie frowned and folded his arms across his chest. "What exactly is going on? I mean what's all this about there being 'too much to do' and 'doing all we can.' Who is this _we_?"

"And not to be rude or anything," Fred glared pointedly at Charlie, "But why are you even back Ange? You must know how dangerous it still is for you, for all of us."

Angelina took another sip of her coffee and smiled wryly. "Quite right Fred. Put it this way, I didn't come back for a quiet, relaxing winter break."

"Well...?" Adam leaned forward.  
All pairs of eyes were on Angelina. There was a soft ticking coming from one of Mrs Weasley's many kitchen clocks and the faint chirping of bird song outside.

She took a deep, slow breath. "I'm with a group known as The Venefici."  
Nobody said a word but exchanged confused glances over the table.

"Would Monday's bombings...?" Demie frowned and trailed off.

"The work of some of our more radical members," she nodded solemnly. "Although I've been assured all care was taken to ensure there were no unnecessary casualties."  
The room fell silent again . Even Mrs Weasley had stopped faffing with the tea cups.  
"We've been around for some time, steadily building forces and strength in the utmost secrecy. It's been a gradual struggle, any sudden moves and Thackery would have had us in an instant. But as of last weekend, it was decided to take the next step forward."

"And so you blew up that hotel?" Ginny murmurred.

Angelina raised her eyebrows. "Not very subtle was it?" Everyone chuckled grimly.

Adam suddenly glanced across at his little sister. "So these are the people we've been looking for. Dems, this is it! That's what you meant isn't it?" he glanced back at Angelina. "When you said you'd come to find us, help us."

Angelina nodded slowly. "If that's what you want. I've been given a Portkey to The Venefici's new safe house and instructions to invite any of you who wish to help the cause to join me. It's not often they send me out with a request like this, they obviously have the utmost faith in the Weasley family," she smiled out at them.

"And who exactly sent you with this request?" The ever suspicious Percy was assessing her carefully. "Who claims responsibility for this group these...what did you say they called themselves?"

"The Venefici," Angelina returned his steely gaze. "And I'm afraid I can't tell you anymore than I have."  
Ron scoffed and shook his head. George, who till that point had sat silently beside Angelina suddenly stood up, resting his palms heavily on the table and leant forward, eyeballing the rest of his family, Adam and Demelza one by one.

"Look, we've been waiting for something like this for almost five years! Angie has told me everything she can and I think these Venecy-ficy-whatsits people might just be the first and best chance we've ever had at getting things back to the way they were," he stared pointedly at Percy. "This is it. This is our time. And you're either up for the fight, or you're not."

Silence fell across the room once again. Demelza's heart had begun to race beneath the borrowed sweater. She'd already promised Adam they would seek out this group and she knew she had to do something, take some kind of action if she ever wanted to see her parents or sister alive but now that the cards had been laid plainly on the table, that familiar feeling of fear and apprehension had come flooding back. Could she really do this? Could she really join some revolutionary uprising, these Venefici and start fighting a war she'd tried to hide from for so long?

It was all happening so quickly. Too quickly.

"I'm in." A small voice murmured from behind her and she started in surprise, everyone turning to gawp up at Molly Weasley, a tea-towel clutched in one hand and a calm but determined look in her eyes.

"Mum you can't be serious-"

"I am very much serious Ronald." She cut him off sharply. "George is right. These people might be the last chance our world has to survive and I know for a fact that your Father and Bill...," her voice hitched a little and she paused, "I know your Father and Bill wouldn't even have hesitated to offer their help in any way they could." She nodded politely at Angelina. "So, I'm in." And with that she turned back to the kettle.

Ron bowed his head for a moment. "I'm in as well," he muttered gravely.

"And me," Adam was nodding enthusiastically.

"Me too," Fred and Charlie added simultaneously. Ginny rolled her eyes quietly, she could practically smell the testosterone in the room.

"Before we commit to anything," Percy began slowly, the rest of his brothers sighing in annoyance, "just what exactly _can_ you tell us about The Venefici? So we can't know who's in charge or where they're based; fine. But what about their plans? What do they stand for exactly?"

"Oh come on Percy-," Ron groaned.

"No, he's right." Demelza interrupted, still attempting to sift through all the new information, everything she'd learnt so far. "I mean, if blowing up a hotel was just their way of introducing themselves, I think it's safe to say we can expect some pretty drastic things. It wouldn't hurt to know a little more about them."  
Everyone fell quiet again and looked towards Angelina expectantly. Percy sent Demie a nod of thanks across the table.

Angelina pursed her lips, pulling up the sleeves of her dark red jacket. "That's fair enough I suppose." She took a deep breath as if wondering where to begin. "The Venefici began as a select council of remaining witches and wizards, assembled as a fall back mechanism before the end of the troubles at the suggestion of Albus Dumbledore."

Molly dropped the teaspoon in her hands, sending sugar grains scattering across the counter-top. "But...But I thought Albus was-,"

"He is, sadly. His death in the last battle was as legitimate as it was shocking but he had set up the foundations for The Venefici in the months before, obviously expecting or fearing the worst. We all thought he was being paranoid, that we were bound to win. We'd forgotten the cardinal rule; never question the madness of Albus Dumbledore," she smiled sadly.  
"Luckily, they'd listened before it was too late, moved supplies from all the major Diagon Alley stores, even some from Knockturn Alley in case things ever turned really nasty. And then they waited," she shrugged. "They knew if they launched any kind of attack straight away they'd fall at the first hurdle. The entire country was bound to be on red-alert for at least the next year and they simply wouldn't stand a chance. So they spent their time building up resources, building up numbers, making sure that when the time came, they'd have everything they needed."

"And now they're ready?" Adam tried to process all the new information. To him, the prospect of The Venefici seemed like a dream come true. He felt as if he'd been unknowingly waiting for this ever since the trouble even began and now his chance for retribution was finally here. His sister seemed to read his mind and was watching him cautiously.

Angelina nodded. "The attack on the Thistle Hotel was their warning to Thackery, although like I said, the building was originally picked as a target because they knew it would be empty. The Venefici motto isn't to kill for the sake of killing, just to reclaim our right to use magic and to do so as honourably as possible."

"How very noble..." Ginny muttered dryly, seemingly lost in deep thought as she furrowed her brow and stood to look out of the back window.

"And you still can't tell us who this '_they'_ is?" Percy arched an eyebrow hopefully. Angelina smiled apologetically and shook her head.  
"Oh alright then," he sighed, "I suppose I'm in. Viva la revolution and all that."

"And what about you Miss Robins?" Demie glanced round, she could have sworn she'd just seen something moving next door. Fred was grinning at her teasingly. "Still outraged at the thought of becoming a crazy revolutionary?"

"I never said they were crazy!" Demelza flushed, shooting Angelina an embarrassed glance to which everybody chuckled.

* * *

It was a few minutes later, as George returned from fetching the Portkey from the car outside that Angelina spoke up. "Oh, I see you've brought along a hostage."  
Everybody frowned in confusion, turning to follow her gaze to Claire, still slumped across the couch in the next room. Demelza's eyes flew wide.

"She's not a hostage!," she shouted in surprise, suddenly scowling. "That's my receptionist!"

Angelina looked mildly bewildered. "Oh, right. It's just that wouldn't be a terrible idea, a hostage I mean. You never know when she could come in handy."

Demie's cheeks flushed angrily. "We are not keeping Claire as a hostage! She risked her life just to make sure I was alright. In fact," she muttered indignantly, marching into the living room, "she shouldn't even be tied up at all."

She fell to her knees beside the couch as the others exchanged looks and shrugs of confusion and fell back into conversation. Demie felt a wave of guilt as she looked down at her stupefied secretary. Poor Claire, she thought, poor bumbling old Claire. She'd only been trying to help and she'd been kidnapped for her efforts. Reaching up, Demie tentatively pulled a square of masking tape from over her mouth. The skin looked pink and sore underneath and Demie made a mental note to never be left alone in a room with Fred Weasley and a roll of tape.

Suddenly, Claire's eyes flew open making Demelza jump back in surprise. Clutching a hand to her chest, Demie felt her heart rate jumping about spasmodically for about the millionth time that day.

"Merlin Claire, you could have scared me to death," she breathed, "Look, I know you're probably terrified right now," Demie took hold of her shoulders gently, sitting her upright, "but there really is nothing to be afraid of. None of us will lay a finger on you, I swear."  
Not surprisingly, Claire didn't seem too convinced.  
"Oh God Claire, I'm so _so_ sorry about all this. I should never have brought you with us, what was I thinking-,"

"Demie you need to listen to me." Demelza paused mid-word and looked up at her receptionist in surprise. Claire was staring down at her fearfully.

"Claire...?" Demie whispered, looking up into her receptionist's anxious eyes.

Claire looked back through the open doorway where the rest of group were still sat chatting and lowered her voice to a frantic whisper. "You need to leave, you need to get out of here right now."

Demie frowned. "No Claire, listen to me. These people are my friends-"

"I know you're a good person," Claire ignored her, terrified eyes now furtively glancing between the kitchen and the window, "even though you're a witch, I know you're a good person. But I don't know the others, they...they m-might be bad you see so I had to."

"Had to what?" Demie gripped her arms a little tighter. "Had to what Claire?"

"You need to leave," she repeated. "Get your brother and run."

Demie's heart was beginning to pick up pace again. "Claire," she held her breath, her eyes wide in apprehension. "What have you done?"

Her receptionist looked down at her, wrists and ankles still bound together. "I...I've phoned the police. They'll be here any minute."

And just like that, Demelza Robins' world came crashing down around her yet again. She dropped her grasp on Claire's shoulders in shock, glancing at the Muggle telephone lying askew on the small table beside the couch. She'd thought she'd seen something moving in the living room, the spell must have worn off sooner than anyone had realised and Claire had managed to grab the phone and call for help whilst they were all deep in conversation.  
Merlin, how could they be so careless?!

Demie jumped up, letting Claire, who was now bleating apologies, fall back down onto the couch as she sprinted back into the kitchen. "We have to leave! We need to run now!"

Adam frowned. "What? Dems what's going on?"

"The police!" she shrieked, "they know where we are and they're coming for us!"

Fred glanced over her shoulder and saw Claire sobbing on the ground next to the phone. His face instantly drained of all colour. "Shit, how long do we have?"

"Seconds," Demie grabbed her wand up from the kitchen table, her heartbeat lurching up into her throat as the adrenaline rush began to build behind her pulse. "Where's the Portkey?!"

"Here," Angie jumped up, grabbing the old book that George had been holding, "but it's on a timer. It'll only be activated at eleven exactly!"

Everyone glanced at the large mounted kitchen clock simultaneously. Five minutes to eleven.

Demie ran a frantic hand through her hair, trying to think. "We don't have time!"  
Not only was she a witch, but since last night she'd also become a fugitive. If the police caught her or anybody else in the room for that matter, there'd be no question about it.  
They'd be shot on sight.

"Get to the attic. NOW!" Mrs Weasley roared above them all. No one even thought to argue.

Fred began pushing Demie towards the stairs but she fought him off, aiming her wand back through the open living room doorway at Claire, who was now coming to terms with her betrayal by sobbing face down into a sofa cushion, and shouting _"Obliviate!" _over the racket of footsteps thundering up to the very top floor of The Burrow. Above her, Ron had pulled down the attic ladder and was quickly shoving a frantic Ginny and Molly ahead of him, roaring back at Percy to _'move his bloody arse,' _as Fred yanked Demelza along behind him.

It was just as Demie was hoisted up into the dark cavity of the attic trapdoor that they heard the first sharp tinkling of smashed glass. They froze, ten pairs of eyes locked open in fear as they each held their breath, Fred scrambling up the final rung of the ladder and yanking the trapdoor shut behind him. They all strained to hear, Demie concentrating only on the hammering of her own heart as it thudded against her ribcage as if it too were desperate to escape.  
More shattering of glass and then a shout. Footsteps, dozens and dozens of heavy footsteps. Kitchen chairs being overturned, the clanging of pans thrown from their counter. It was as if an army were racing through the Weasley kitchen.  
Demie glanced up, dark eyes wide and terrified as they searched the darkness. Fred and Charlie were both staring straight ahead into the shadows, listening intently. Ron had his eyes focused on the trapdoor just waiting for it to burst open at any second. George was trying desperately to read the tiny hands of his watch as Angelina stared hard at the book clutched in her hands, willing it to activate and save them all from torturous discovery. Mrs Weasley had closed her eyes as if in silent prayer.

The pounding of thick boots on wood grew louder. They were coming up the stairs.

Beside her, Fred's breathing came quick and fast in time with Demie's furious pulse. She could hear them on the landing beneath them, mere feet away. Doors being forced open with the blunt end of guns, those same guns that had been smashed against her Father's face only hours earlier. George was glancing wildly over at Angelina who hadn't taken her eyes off the book.

How much time had passed? Demie felt a wave of terrified nausea sweep over her. Surely the Portkey should have been activated by now? What if it didn't work? Right at the very top of the house they had no way out, nowhere near enough room for all ten to dissapparate. What would happen when they were found? Would they be taken like her parents, forced into the back of vans and taken elsewhere for Merlin knows what? Would they even be taken at all or would they simply let off a round of gunfire right here in the Burrow attic?

"Ten seconds...," George mouthed in fear-stricken silence.

Demie clutched at her stomach as she bent double to wretch, Fred gripped her other hand tightly. The attic floor beneath them shook as the intruders stormed their way through the house, smashing and snapping whatever lay in their path.

And then, all at once, it happened. The trapdoor burst open, a square of light flooding the tiny attic room as a barrage of screams and roars erupted from below. Ron, poised for this very moment, kicked out forcefully at the dark armoured helmet of the intruding officer, slamming his foot right across the black visor sending him spiralling back down the ladder. A sharp burst of gunfire blasted through the shouts of rage, missing them all by inches as they scrambled away from the now open hole in the floor. They were found, they were exposed and Demelza knew in another second, they were all dead.

There was clattering as more soldiers hurried to clamber over their fallen comrade to get to the ladder.

"The Portkey!" Ginny screamed, pointing to the book which had suddenly begun to glow a bright blue in Angelina's arms just as the second officer began forcing his way up through the trapdoor. In a whirlwind of shouts, movement and panic, Demie felt Fred lunge forward towards the book, heaving her across the floor with him until her hand slammed down on the Portkey just as someone else's hand clenched down on her ankle.

* * *

(Thanks for reading, I know that was a bit of a marathon chapter but I hope you all enjoyed! And remember, reviews make the world go round! xxx ~)


End file.
